Merlotte
by OpenPandora
Summary: Sam's dream from episode 301 gets a a lot steamier - and more dangerous. Graphic, Slash, some non-con. Now continued with more filthy dirty encounters following 302.
1. Hard Water

This set during the season 3 Premiere. I hope I'm not the only one who was disappointed when Sam's dream ended so early!. This is very much M rated, but if you're old enough to be watching True blood on TV without a chaperone, then you're old enough to be reading this. This is slash complete with some non-con, so if that's not your thing, leave now.

I am also aware that this is not the first fic to be written about this scene. However I haven't read any of them, so any resemblance is coincidental. Reviews are very much welcome.

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Sam had fallen asleep that night in his cheap motel with great difficulty. As his quest to find his birth family progressed, more and more he felt the blood pound in his veins, surging and tingling with a trace of adrenaline. Every moment he got closer he could feel his skin tingle in a combination of nerves and anticipation. His desire to find his kin was like a kid waiting for Christmas, but tinged with the feeling of sour milk in his stomach. He was on the cusp of something he had yearned for his whole life, but he knew that the people he would find might not be the people he wanted.

It was with the blood pounding in his ears and the unease settled in his gut that he opened the door to the slightly emaciated form of Bill Compton. The sour milk feeling twisted and changed, sending unfamiliar bolts of electricity from his gut straight to his groin. Sam found himself asking Bill why he was here and how he found him, not really caring about the answers Bill supplied them anyway, his voice both dark and sensual

"You've had my Blood Sam, an awful lot of it." Sam's mind tried to compute this statement, but it was otherwise occupied by his growing internal conflict whether to back away or to move closer.

The Vampire seemed set to settle that conflict for him, however, as he stalked forward gracefully. His eyes flickered over Sam's form as if he owned it, seemingly prepared to drink in the blood and feast on the flesh. Sam could feel each place Bill's eyes touched as if they were lazers, burning the surface of his skin. He found himself surrendering his shirt to the taller man, almost not of his own free will. "Nice", he heard, and a little voice in the back of his head was screaming at it him to run far and fast, but the blood pounding in his ears was drowning it out, and he didn't know if was left over from his tortured thoughts before sleep, or if his new companion was the source of such a heartbeat. Almost involuntarily, Sam's eyes came to rest on Bill's pale chest, now that his own was exposed. Compton's gaze flickered across Sam's hair covered chest in turn, resting briefly on each nipple, before wandering lazily up and down the sides of his neck. That gaze finally drifted downwards to the line of hair that began just below his belly button that led directly to the shape shifter's crotch, where an erection was starting to strain painfully at his jeans. His gaze was hungry and Sam couldn't tell if Bill was lusting for his body or his blood. The adrenaline that had been masked by the sourness of his stomach came to the fore, causing his breathing to hitch and his skin to tingle. The pounding of blood through his almost caused him to miss the vampire's next statement, but it rumbled forward like a train on tracks, inevitable and unstoppable.

"... Unless you'd like to join me"

The words dropped out of Bill Compton's mouth and straight into Sam's throat. He swallowed them slowly, with much difficultly. Each syllable swam through his body straight to his groin. The vampire's eyes returned to Sam's face and he suddenly felt like he was drowning in that gaze. He was helpless, hopeless, and trapped. There was nothing he could do but to let the vampire grasp his hand and lead him slowly to the shower, never breaking his gaze. Bill's fingers were cold and smooth in contrast to Sam's which felt like they were on fire.

The shower went on and both men were naked. Sam found himself pushed up against the back wall, water cascading over Bill's shoulders and onto his own chest and face. Sam was fully hard now, but so was his companion, whose hands and lips began to claim all the places his eyes had earmarked. Bill began to kiss the sides of Sam's neck, and he shuddered, suddenly certain that the vampire was going to open his veins and kill him at any moment but he couldn't find it in himself to push the other man away, and settled for resting his hands on the pale chest in front of him, fingers tangled in Bill's own chest hair. The flesh beneath his hands was cold as well, but hot water from the shower was falling across that cold chest in rivulets, running over the backs of his hands in scalding trails, providing a stark contrast with the marble stillness his hands pressed against. Bill's own hands were busy as well, starting at Sam's ribs and groping over his pectorals, only to move downwards the nails of his fingers scraping almost brutally over Sam's nipples. The shape shifter's breath hitched in his throat and he felt the lips there smile wickedly before pointed fangs were being lightly dragged up and down the sides of Sam's throat, leaving tiny, angry red scratches in their wake, not yet drawing blood. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head as he drowned in this new sensation, the pain serving as a delicious contrast to the motions of Bill's hands. His hands flexed unconsciously against the broad expanse of pale chest, his own fingernails seeking purchase in the vampire's skin.

Compton's hands weren't done with him yet as they trailed down his abdomen to the arousal present there. Cold hands dripping hot water gripped his shaft, alternately squeezing gently and stroking. Sam couldn't help himself and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to enjoy the sensation, part of him still struggling in disgust and wonder with the person providing him with it. The water from the shower splashed over Bill's shoulders with each motion, providing a staccato counterpoint to the deep base rhythm he set with his hands. Sam could feel his pulse keeping time to the whole composition. Bill's free hand gripped Sam's wrist and began to drag it down until Sam's hand rested over the vampire's member, as if demanding acknowledgment, not allowing Sam to drift into a different fantasy. Bill continued his stroking and used the free hand to brace himself on the shower wall, nipping his fangs across Sam's neck to re-enforce the reminder. The jolt of pleasure this caused made Sam moan again, and he began to stroke Bill, tentatively at first then harder with growing confidence, keeping in time with the pace set by his own beating heart. Sam's breath began to grow ragged, adding rough vocals that echoed strangely through the shower with each cold/hot stroke, and his knees began to sag as he felt the pressure begin to build, the composition reaching its crescendo. Bill's body pressed forward into his, supporting his legs with his own, their knuckles brushing up against each other as they continued their strokes, now more frantic. Sam could feel Bill's head lift from the crux of his shoulder with a grunt as the dark haired man pushed to support the pair more fully, and more marble cold flesh pressed against Sam's.

Sam groaned and his head rolled forward. The water from shower now blocked entirely by Compton's torso, and ran down his legs in scalding rivulets. He was still struggling to remain upright when he finally opened his eyes. There staring back at him were the eyes of a vampire. Not Bill Compton, the genial man he had come to know, but a hungry animal, intent on consuming him completely. Those eyes burned intent on consuming him totally. He desperately wanted to look away and his own strokes faltered, but he was trapped by the animalistic gaze. The beast bared its fangs and let out a guttural snarl as Sam's hand began to halt its motions. The brightness of the bathroom around them grew dark, and Sam felt like the blood had drained from him entirely, leaving his body locked in fear. He wanted to struggle, cry for help, anything. The vampire still had his hand over Sam's manhood - no longer moving but gripping it almost too tightly. He paused momentarily before he released it and shoved Sam face first against the tiled wall with a vicious snarl. His arms were twisted cruelly and painfully up behind his back, his breath coming in shallow pants now.

Bill's other hand wrenched at Sam's buttocks, and Sam felt the sudden cruel intrusion of one of the vampire's fingers. He cried out in pain, and got an angry growl in response, while his wrists were wrenched more firmly against his back. A second finger was added, painfully stretching him out. They began to move and Sam whimpered as he felt a tingle of unfamiliar, unwanted arousal start up again in his nether regions. He gave a soft cry as the arousal got stronger, feeling himself come to the edge again while not knowing why. He unconsciously began to rub himself against the tiles in time with the intruding motion. He heard the vampire growl again and suddenly the two fingers were ripped from him, leaving an aching, painful emptiness. He felt something altogether bigger pressing at his entrance.

"N -no! Stop!" He cried finally, desperately wiggling to get away, all his strength inexplicably drained from him. The pressing was firmer and more insistent, and Compton's knees pressed into him, holding him still, a hand snaking around his hips to keep him there. The entire world shrank down to the cold tiled wall in front of him, the cold predator behind him, and scalding lines of water from the shower. Everything else seemed to go dark and still, the only sound a familiar patter of water from the motel shower. Sam felt a prickle of breath by his ear as the Vampire began to speak, low, and rough.

"There is no 'Stop' Sam Merlotte. You took my blood Sam, You took an awful lot of my blood," He paused, stilling Sam's struggles again, " And I _own_ you Sam Mer-lotte." He said his name slowly and deliberately, and this time the syllables of 'Merlotte' lodged in his chest like iron slugs.

There was a moment of still, time enough for the vampire's words to sink in before Sam felt him surge upwards and bite downwards simultaneously. It was the most horrible pain clashing with the sweetest pleasure, the Vampire's bite contriving to turn the awfull tearing into something altogether less painful and more gut wrenching. Blood splashed against the tiled walls before his eyes in an altogether too vivid red splash at the same time his testicles contracted, and a guttural cry left his throat...

...Waking him up. He pushed off his bed sheets, sweating and shaking uncontrollably. A stickiness about his thighs indicated to him that he had in fact found a release of some kind but this was of no comfort. He ran his hands shakily across his eyes in an effort to calm himself.

The phone rang and he hesitated before picking it up.

"Hello? Mr. Merlotte? I hope I didn't wake you, "a woman's voice sounded across the line.

"No, you didn't miss, But I sure wish you had."


	2. Low down dirty dog

I was thinking about leaving the graphic one shot there, but Sam is just too darn delicious in this position to let him go with just that. I'll try to fit the following chapters in to season 3 cannon as time goes by (But as I'm going episode to episode, this is likely to go awry quite quickly). This chapter follows the events of Season 3 episode 2 .

Same set of warnings from chapter one applies. Dirty, nasty, Man on man action, a whiff of beastiality and some vampire blood drug use. I cannot stress enough – If none of these things sound like your idea of good read don't read it.

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Sam was fine the entire next day, able to focus on his quest. Out in the sunshine, with (relatively) normal, breathing human beings, the disturbing dream he encountered the night before was banished to a dark corner of his mind. He certainly felt he had more important and troubling things to worry about. After the night spent sleeping in his car, and a less than emotionally fulfilling visit with his blood kin, Sam was left dirty, bruised and shaken by his audition for road kill earlier in the evening.

He returned to the motel. The sun had set, but it was one of those days where the heat still lay heavy in the humid summer air, where there wasn't a breeze or raindrop in sight to pull the suffocating blanket of moisture from the atmosphere. Dirt from the road was ground into his skin. So, feeling exhausted and filthy, Sam stripped his shirt from his shoulders, stepped out of his trousers and headed to the motel washroom for a cool shower.

The moment the spray struck him; Sam was pulled back into his dream of two nights prior. Cold hands seemed to stroke him and bright red blood spattered against the tiles in spots crawling across his vision. The cold patter of water gripped him like a vice, mimicking a vampire's embrace. Without thinking, Sam leapt out of shower, pulling the curtain down with him. The plastic rings holding it up gave way almost instantly, and shattered, exploding like tiny hand grenades. His vision went momentarily blank and he saw stars, as if he had struck his head. There was no pain however, so still sweating, his legs tangled in the curtain, Sam panicked and scrambled out of the washroom and out the front door of the motel. Naked, wet and shivering, he shifted in his most familiar form, the English shepherd dog that had once spent the night on Sookie's bedroom floor. Then, for the second time that day, he ran.

The world as a dog was simpler in many ways, more complex than others. His eyes were lower to the ground, and he came to trust them less. The dirt and asphalt beneath his paws didn't tear at his flesh like they would his human hands and feet. But hearing and scent were magnified and focused. His nose latched on to hundreds of individual scents, analyzing and discarding each one in turn. He picked up Gasoline, oil, rubber and stale cigarettes - the parking lot of the motel. More scents, human ones, criss-crossed the lot from cars to doors. One door cracked open, and the scent of alcohol and sex swept out into the tepid night air. He smelled all this in a fraction of a second before dashing off into the thickly wooded area behind the roadside motel. The highway still lingered in his nose, but those scents were more quickly replaced by the more immediate odours of leaf litter, sharp pine and the particular musk of beetles and insects. Now that he knew the scent, his head was pulled westward towards, an old track left by the bulldog that was his brother. He knew that if he followed it long enough he would range around back to the house he had visited earlier. Turning away he ran harder trying to lose himself in the exhilaration of burning muscles. He ran until a sharp pain in his front left paw forced him to slow down. He carefully observed his surroundings. The only scents were those rotting foliage and woodland animals and a very old trace of engine oil, evidence there was an old ATV trail somewhere nearby. Sam was well and truly in the middle of nowhere now, in a grassy clearing. He lifted his injured paw to give it a lick when a new scent gave him pause.

Blood, thick and choking invaded the meadow. The heat that had been so pervasive until this moment suddenly dissipated, and Sam's canine body shivered uncontrollably at the sudden drop in temperature. The normal night time forest noises became conspicuously absent, and his ears perked, straining for any sound. His own heartbeat was magnified a thousand fold by his enhanced hearing and the sudden silence. Sam was about to consider shifting back to human form when the sharp crack of a broken branch sounded from behind him. He turned, and his nostrils were filled overwhelmingly with the scent of blood, underlain with the scent of freshly overturned earth. The scent was achingly, hauntingly, terrifyingly familiar. Grainy as his vision was, his eyes confirmed. It was Bill Compton.

The source of the blood scent was immediately apparent. It dribbled from Bill's lips and over his chin spreading across his dirt stained bare chest. His left hand and arm were drenched to the elbow, while his right was merely painted in crimson patches. The rest of his body was adorned only in more blood and more dirt, covering his knees and thighs like battle wounds, although it was clear none of the blood was his. In contrast to his appearance in Sam's dream the night before he looked... Vital. Healthy even. His skin had acquired a rosy glow like he may have had in life.

Sam's initial reaction was to growl, and he did so, baring his own white fangs at the vampire. However his canine instincts soon recognized the presence of a more dominant predator, and begged him to submit. He fought the urge to whine, but couldn't help it as his ears drew back and he let his shoulders slump into a meek posture. He began to back away, favouring his injured paw.

"Merlotte" Compton growled, zipping forward to grip Sam at the scruff of his neck with his cleaner right hand. Sam whined and attempted to turn his head, his instincts screaming at him to not meet Bill's eyes in challenge. His back legs kicked at the dirt, and Sam frantically considered what he could shift into to escape Compton's grasp. These rebellious thoughts were cut short though, as Bill's bloody hand gripped his muzzle and forced eye to eye contact.

"No runnin' off now Merlotte."

Bill released his grip and Sam immediately began to lick the blood from his lips and nose. "Let's see about that foot Merlotte". Bill grasped Sam's foreleg and pulled it up to examine the paw. A white shard was embedded deep in the pad of the foot. His leg was twisted uncomfortably, and Sam found himself manoeuvred onto his back. Bill gripped the white shard with his fingers and extracted it almost delicately and Sam felt a tiny tinge of pain as he did.

"We should see about getting that cleaned, "Bill said, his pupils dilated hugely like some night stalking beast. Something in his tone of voice struck a chord in Sam's belly and he changed back to human form almost immediately. Compton smiled, and pinned Sam's chest to the ground with a bloody knee. He took the hand that he now held and brought it to his mouth, where he lapped at the delicate welling of blood that had appeared there with long rough strokes of his tongue. Sam realized that Bill was warm now - the fresh blood of his previous kill running hot in his veins. Each stroke of Bill's tongue sent warm tremors through him.

Sam realized that this was altogether different from his dream in the shower. There, Compton had pretended civility and sensuality before revealing the dark animal that lurked within. Here there was no such pretence. Where before he had been cold, now he burned like fire against the eerie cold of the night. Where before Compton had approached him like a man, here he did it like a beast, dominating from the get go. The dog that had not lost its grip on Sam's mind was almost pleased to have met something to call leader, and Sam was not certain he wanted Bill to stop, even as he was pinned to the ground by the dead man's knee.

Bill shifted and let go of Sam's hand, straddling the shifter's belly. Sam was left splayed out. With human eyes fixed on Bill's chest he realized that some of the blood spattered there was the vampire's own. A cut across his pectoral dripped steadily, somehow not yet healed. Bill's hands no longer restrained him and Sam lifted his own head to the white chest to lap up the blood there like he had lapped the blood from his own muzzle only moments earlier.

The vampire blood struck him exactly as he remembered in a rush of euphoria and arousal. He began to drink more frantically and Bill leaned forward into Sam's hungry mouth, pinning Sam onto his back. Sam gasped for air, but instead breathed in the Vampire's scent. He could almost smell the dangerous intent on him mixed with the earthy musk that belonged only to Compton, as if he still had his canine nose.

"Had enough Merlotte?" Compton drawled with a dark chuckle, drawing his body upwards. Sam whined in response. Bill grinned a wide fangy grin. "Still a dog Merlotte? Well, that suits me just fine" Bill's white face was highlighted by moonlight briefly in Sam's view before he was flipped over and forced onto his hands and knees. Bill settled in behind him, prepared to rutt like an animal.

"Howl for me Merlotte" Bill growled, before forcing himself forward once again

It might have been the vampire blood in his stomach, but the intrusion was different this time. There was little pain, only a rough pressure that built up sweetly in his loins. Bill pounded into his body and a sound started up in Sam's throat somewhere between a howl and a whimper. Bill's hand still slick with blood gripped Sam's cock and stroked it viciously, not satisfied.

"I said Howl Merlotte!" Bill roared. Sam did as he bid and a canine howl was torn from his throat as he prepared to fall over the edge, his head throbbing painfully. A second howl began just as his vision went black and all sensation slowly went numb, with the exception of his head, which began to throb more strongly than ever. He could distantly hear Bill's demands for him to howl more but even sound was growing distant. He began to become aware of coldness in his limbs and tiny sharp pains all over his body. He heard a pattering noise like rain, and a sharp banging like someone knocking on a door.

His eyes cracked open and he found himself staring, dizzy at the cheap off white ceiling tiles of the motel bathroom. The shower was still running, drizzling a cool spray over his naked body, which was still sprawled over the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Shards of plastic were scattered everywhere, and it seemed that he had rolled over onto several. His head pounded painfully, and reaching back he found that his hair was damp with blood.

"Mr. Merlotte!" He heard, accompanied by a sharp knocking, "Are you in there Mr. Merlotte?" Sam pushed himself off the floor, a sharp twinge in his left hand. A plastic shard embedded itself in his palm, and he winced at it. Holding his head and wrapping the white plastic curtain around his hips, he staggered to the door of the motel room.

The man there looked like one of the night employees, a skinny teenager, gripping a package in one hand.

"Mr. Merlotte, someone left this for you at the desk - hey are you alright?" The employee gasped.

Sam didn't have an answer.


	3. Interlude: Stalkin'

No real warnings for this chapter, I'm afraid. Best to think of it as an extra bonus before episode 3 comes out. After all it takes two to Tango, so I think it's time we took a peek into the head of one William Compton. This is set before Bill's little bout of pyrotechnics during season 3, episode 2. This would have been out earlier in the week if it were not for internet troubles.

Don't worry – we'll be getting back to Sam next Chapter.

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Bill paced like a caged animal.

Perhaps that was because he had been caged like an animal. It was certainly an attractive cage - with its fine trappings and furniture of historical interest, but it was a cage nonetheless. With the silver on the door and the "Attendant" waiting in the hall, it was hard to pretend as if it were anything less. The king of Mississippi grated on his nerves in a way even the queen of Louisiana and her frivolous manners never had. She was at least open in her elaborate fantasy life of pool boys and fake tanning by the pool. This vampire hid his proclivities behind a pretended call back to times gone past with a no less ridiculous facade of Victorian architecture and reproduction Regency coats. The vampire may have been old enough to have called George king, but Bill found his insistence on pretending this was still so distasteful. It stank of an old world imperialism that had no place in new world politics - vampire or no.

He concentrated, and prepared to call Jessica again, then thought better of it.

There was nothing, realistically, that his ward could do. Worse, she would probably get Sookie involved, and the last thing Bill needed was the blonde telepath in the middle of this. He was deep in vampire territory here, and not a single one would hesitate to rip out her throat. He winced at the image of Sookie Stackhouse storming through the front gates of the King of Mississippi's mansion in an indignant rage, demanding his release. No, he needed to keep her as far away as possible until he could escape this unfortunate situation all on his own.

Help, he knew, was unlikely from either his sheriff or his Queen, and he had no way of contacting either in any case. Jessica fluttered in the back of his head - as a major recipient of his Blood, he could keep track of her. Sookie too, had her own place, and thankfully it was not prominent, meaning she was safe - or at least not in immediate danger. As he tried to concentrate on Bon Temps, something entirely strange flashed in the back of his head. It was the kind of alarm he had felt when Sookie was trapped in the basement of the Fellowship of the Sun but it was all wrong. The tingle he knew belonged entirely to her was just as it always was, and it was a new someone in danger.

It took Bill a serious moment to figure out who it was before it came to him: Sam Merlotte, the shifter. Just as he concentrated on it - it felt west instead of south, which was odd - it went away. Merlotte's peril was obviously temporary then, as the feeling faded as quickly as it had arrived. But Bill could recognize Sam's presence now, as it nestled down next to Sookie's in his brain, as if cozying up to her in his own mind. His hackles rose a little at the thought. Merlotte was a respectable enough man, but Bill Compton did not share what was his – with anyone, and certainly not in his own head. I in fact, if it weren't for the blonde woman's affection for her employer, Bill would have given the shifter a taste of his fangs a long time ago.

It was worse, Compton knew, because Sam Merlotte was not half the villain Bill could have wished. It was not gentlemanly to punch an ally across the chin and pin him to the ground for glancing at your girlfriend, and even less so to bury your fangs in his neck afterwards - No matter how much Bill Compton may have wanted to, seeing Sam trot along beside her like a besotted pet. It was the dog in him, Compton decided, that grated on his nerves. It was no wonder that the canine seemed to be his preferred form. Sam Merlotte needed a master.

It was an hour or more before he felt a slight twinge of danger from Sam Merlotte again. He reluctantly concentrated on him, to ascertain where he was. It could be that Merlotte was close enough to spring him from this detestable predicament. The danger pulled him westward again, but it felt too far away to be in Mississippi. What the shifter was doing in Arkansas, Bill had no idea but it certainly didn't do him any good. He concentrated harder, trying to tell what the danger was.

He was hit with a blast of fear, and raw, sexual energy. It was enough to make him sit down on the bed abruptly. The aftermath of the blast tingled through him. He was reminded of how he felt back in that clearing, tearing the throats out of the attacking werewolves. It was the adrenaline rush of stalking prey. It called to mind blood on his fangs and a warm living body beneath him. The feeling was wild - and it had been stoked by Sam Merlotte. Bill was left with an aching urge in his loins that he desperately wanted to unleash on someone. There was no one around, and in disbelief of himself he began to reach into his slacks to take matters into his own hands. Just as he began to tug at his hardening erection, a knock at the door interrupted his reverie. It was the call to dinner. The signals from Sam Merlotte were pushed ruthlessly into the background, and Bill came too, quickly zipping his fly. He growled, trying to think of the least arousing thing he could, begging off the attendant to stall for time. Normally, these thoughts would be along the lines of people and things that annoyed him, and Sam Merlotte was usually near the top of that list.

That certainly wasn't an option now.

So, thinking about Baseball, Bill Compton left his silver plated room with his armed attendant. He wished that the silver worked to trap shifters as well as it did vampires, so he could leave Sam Merlotte behind there, and not in his head.


End file.
